


The Devil's Trill

by gelishan



Series: When Hell's Kitchen Freezes Over 'verse [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Foggy Nelson, Coming Out, Feelings Realization, Insecurity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Slash, Television Watching, a hot second of internalized ableism, this is way fluffier than the tags are making it sound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelishan/pseuds/gelishan
Summary: Then they'd stopped, after the episode where Crusher rejected her alien lover for taking on a new, female host.  Matt hadn't been sure they were going to move past the awkwardness of that post-episode discussion.He really hadn't minded what Foggy had revealed about his sexuality-- had treasured it, even-- but that didn't mean Foggy believed he didn't mind.The full story of what happened that evening.  Prequel to When Hell's Kitchen Freezes Over.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt/Foggy/Star Trek
Series: When Hell's Kitchen Freezes Over 'verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019917
Comments: 12
Kudos: 59





	The Devil's Trill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Metaderivative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metaderivative/gifts).



After the third loud " _Paiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin!",_ Matt has to ask.

"What exactly is the point of Deanna Troi?”

She’s an empath, which should be an important diplomatic role. No one knows better than Matt how useful it is to listen to people’s hearts. But she never knows the details. She can’t even identify specific lies. Matt shouldn’t be better at her job than she is. 

"Troi gets better later," Foggy says. "This season? You'd have to see her uniform."

Matt grins. "I do like a woman in uniform. Describe it for me?” 

He doesn’t love making these kinds of jokes. They’re uncomfortable. But it’s how they’ve bonded since their awkward day one. For two weeks afterward, Foggy had thrown out joke after joke about hot women, each accompanied by a twinge of elevated heartbeat.

Matt wanted to set him at ease. So now this is what they do together.

"Not narrating this one, buddy," Foggy says. "It wouldn’t be gentlemanly."

He whistles. “Must be some uniform. You sure? You could open _me_ to a new caliber of women.”

"You're open to enough women, Matt." He claps him on the shoulder.

Matt smiles to himself and settles back against the pillows as the credits begin. It’s so good to be here. Everything he’s studying right now is so serious-- plea bargains, revoked bail, People v. Serravo and its questions of moral vs. legal right and wrong. Star Trek can raise serious philosophical questions too, but without concrete applications to weigh them down, they’re lighter. And Foggy, laughing and bickering and comfortable next to him, lightens him too.

The sweeping orchestral music stops. “You up for another?” Foggy says. He sounds just a little bit sleepy, but content.

“Sure.”

Foggy thumbs at the DVD case. A smoke detector chirps three rooms over. He’ll have to stop by with a battery later if he wants to get any work done.

"Next up is… oh.” Foggy’s voice goes unnatural and stiff, and Matt drags his focus back to the room. “Okay, we're skipping this one." 

Foggy hasn’t skipped any episodes so far. Not even the first-season episodes people got fired over. "There are _worse_ episodes than Code of Honor?" 

"No! God, no, Planet Racism is definitely the worst Star Trek episode of all time."

"Then why?"

A vacuum cleaner starts up across the hall. The snarl of it swallows up Foggy’s voice, makes it tiny and solemn. "Because I'm not sure you'll hate it, and I don't want to fight you on this."

"I won't… I won't fight you on anything, Foggy." He’s worried about the sound of Foggy’s voice, the bite of his heartbeat, so it comes out more seriously than he intends. "Wipe the debate floor with you, maybe,” he tries.

It doesn't get a smile. It wasn’t funny. "Right." Foggy sighs. "Fine. Just remember I didn't want us to watch this one together, okay?"

Without waiting for a response, he unpauses the DVD player. He settles next to Matt again, cozy and comfortable as always, but his legs are tense, his toes flexing restlessly.

"Dr. Crusher is making out with another forehead ridge dude,” he begins. “This one, the ridge is shaped like a Y, and his nose is the tail. An uppercase Y, not a lowercase one. And his hair is the _worst_ , Matt, somehow both limp and overstyled.”

It’s light, it’s relaxing, it’s quintessentially Foggy. But he smells wrong, and his heartbeat is jagged.

Data walks in on Crusher and forehead ridge man. They have a stilted conversation, during which the couple strongly suggest Data take on a science task. They make transparent excuses for not joining him.

There's the whoosh Matt has come to understand means a door has opened. "Now Data's gone,” Foggy says. “You know, why doesn’t Crusher just tell Data she's dating the dude? It's not like he's in the chain of command. He's not even from the same _ship_."

Everything Foggy's saying is completely normal, but Matt is having trouble shutting down the instincts telling him to prepare for battle. Foggy's abdominal muscles are clenching. His hands are braced protectively. The speed of his digestion is slowing.

"We don't have to--"

"You said you wanted us to watch this, buddy." Foggy sounds grim. "You might as well understand."

Matt wants to let himself sink into Foggy's easygoing narration again. But it comes shorter, more clipped, as the episode goes on. Cruiser's Y-ridge crush receives a mortal wound and turns out to belong to a body-switching symbiotic species called the Trill. Riker volunteers to host it in his body until the real host can get here. "And now Crusher and Riker are kissing, and it's super gross." 

Foggy’s tension is building so high that Matt can feel sympathetic knots forming in his own muscles. “Foggy?”

"Odan's new host just walked into the room,” Foggy says. “Got the same forehead ridge, but--"

A gravelly voice says, "I am Kareel. I am to become host for Odan."

"--she's a woman this time." Foggy sounds a little choked. "Wasn't sure it was obvious from the voice, so I thought I should tell you."

The operation is successful; the Trill is saved. Matt doesn't care. He only cares about the miserable, sharp beat of Foggy’s heart. It’s getting harder and harder to focus on the dialogue, not to stop the DVD and tell Foggy that whatever it is will be okay. 

He has to pay attention, though. Foggy wants him to understand.

Foggy isn’t narrating at all anymore.

Odan/Kareel says, "I want to thank you. For your caring. For your standing by me."

Crusher sounds distant when she speaks, but kind. “Perhaps it is a human failing, but we are not accustomed to these kinds of changes,” she says, softly. “I can't keep up. How long will you have this host? What will the next one be? I can't live with that kind of uncertainty. Perhaps, someday, our ability to love won't be so limited.” She pauses. “Odan, I do love you. Please remember that.”

Once again, the ending credits roll. Foggy’s legs are braced against the floor now, supporting almost his entire weight. His feet are pointing towards the door. Foggy wanted him to understand why this episode upset him and he _doesn’t_ , and Foggy is poised to flee. 

Matt can't let him.

“Thoughts, Matt?”

Not _what’d you think, Matt._ Not _how’d you like it._ Demanding, interrogatory language.

He touches Foggy’s arm. “It’s not the best episode of TV I’ve seen,” he hedges. Swallows. “I admit, I don’t see your issues with it--”

"Thought not,” Foggy says brusquely, starting to withdraw his arm. “This was a stupid idea, Matt, forget we ever--"

Matt grips the arm instinctively. Foggy’s heart kicks faster. "--but I don't think ‘people hate change' would bother you this much.” Matt continues over the rest of Foggy’s sentence. “Sorry,” he says, releasing the arm. “I didn’t mean.” Foggy’s heart sounds _scared._

He never wanted to scare Foggy. He hadn’t even meant to interrupt. He was just trying to stop Foggy from saying “forget we ever saw this.” He wants to keep these TV evenings and Foggy’s friendship, and he’s more and more convinced he has to get this right to do it. 

He takes a deep breath. “I missed something. Something visual." Matt tilts his head, projecting as much _innocent, endearing blind man_ confusion as he can manage. "And you stopped talking during the scene with the Trill's final host."

He smoothes the edges of his voice into softness. "Why don't you tell me what I missed, Fogs?" He reaches out, slowly, giving Foggy time to move away if he wants, if he’s afraid of Matt hurting him again. Foggy stays still.

Matt strokes his arm gently. A light, repetitive touch, just a thumb in the crook of his elbow. _Foggy, please trust me_ , he doesn't say. It's not something he can ask for, or deserves. Just something he wants.

Foggy shivers. Exhales a shaky breath. And finally, _finally_ points his feet away from the door. "Okay,” he says. “Okay.” 

Matt exhales a breath of his own, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“When Kareel comes into the sickbay,” Foggy says, voice soft, “Crusher turns around. She's got this big, happy, relieved smile on her face. Then she sees the woman host and the smile fades away. She looks…" 

He rubs his thumb and forefinger together, a dry, nervous sound. "I don't know how to describe it. Completely blank and fucked-up, like this is the most traumatic moment of her life." His voice is still soft, but it’s developed overtones now, a rasp. It reminds Matt of a thunderstorm. 

Matt nods.

“It’s _bullshit_ ,” Foggy says. “She can get past Odan inhabiting a coworker she has no interest in. But she can't deal with Odan inhabiting the body of a woman?" His voice is rising, thunderstorm swirling into a tornado. "She called it _human_ not to want Odan anymore. This episode hurt so many people, Matt. It told trans people no one would care about them. It told gay people no one would stand by them. And it's… it's personal.”

"Personal?" Matt thinks he knows why. Their first meeting, that burst of awkward, noisy attraction. But he wants to hear it from Foggy.

He strokes his arm again. “It’s okay if you don’t--”

“I'm bi, Matt," His voice is louder, more forceful than it needs to be. He sounds proud and firm and terrified. Matt’s heart stutters, and his thumb stills on Foggy's arm. "I don't make a big deal out of it, but I am. And it’s okay now, except for creeps who keep telling me to pick a side, but it wasn't okay in high school, back when I first saw this.” 

For all he’d guessed what Foggy was going to tell him, Matt is blanking on how he’s supposed to respond now. Should he nod? Admire his bravery? Thank him? Congratulate him?

He tucks his left arm, the one not touching Foggy, uncomfortably behind his back. A microwave beeps.

"Matt, reaction? Can't really read you here." 

Another interrogative demand. Foggy’s almost vibrating with anxiety. "Just surprised.” He shakes his head and leans forward encouragingly. ”Please, go on. Wasn't okay how?"

Foggy tilts his face downward.

"High school is ugly for everyone,” he says to the bedspread. “For me, people liked to make up shit about me. When they found out I was bi, it all turned sexual. So many masturbation jokes. Fake Valentines from this one teacher everyone hated, because being bi means no _standards_.”

> _“You should ask him out,” he hears through the brick._
> 
> _Marla, he thinks. They’ve shared a few group projects, and she’s one of the only people who do their fair share of the work._
> 
> _“I should ask who out?”_
> 
> _“The blind boy.” He suppresses a jump, even though there’s no way they can see him. “He’s cute. Smart.” She giggles. “Probably desperate enough to be a sure thing.”_
> 
> _“You kiddin’? Jesus, Marla, I’ve got_ standards _.”_

Matt comes back to himself to find his left hand digging claws into the mattress.

“I spent a lot of high school humiliated and lonely.” Foggy's shoulders are hunching inward. “I looked to this show for hope. It could’ve showed me a future where people like me were lovable. Easily.” His voice trembles. “This is what they gave me instead."

The strength of Matt’s reaction surprises him. He wants to hunt down the show writers, the people who wrote the valentines, anyone who hurt Foggy with this and shake them. _Hit_ them. 

“I'm so sorry, Fogs,” he says.

It’s inadequate. Not half of what he feels. But he probably shouldn’t share what he feels. Violence against past enemies is generally frowned upon, and Foggy has frowned enough tonight.

“It's all right. I've had years to get over it.”

_Lie_.

He throws his arms around Foggy, ignoring his startled jump. Because Foggy’s heart beating _lie_ means this is still hurting him. Means some part of him believes he’s not lovable. Matt can’t let him think that. Not for a moment. 

“Thank you, Fogs,” he says into Foggy’s hair. This isn’t a thing he’d usually do, hugging someone. Stick beat the habit out of him years ago. But Foggy likes hugs, and this is about Foggy. “Thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.”

Foggy smells of tea tree conditioner and nervousness and artificial cheese dust. Matt’s going to have to throw all those cheese puffs in the garbage again. Maybe it’ll stick this time. 

"I’m doing my best, buddy.” Foggy still sounds unsteady, suspicious. “You're really fine with this? I thought Catholics wanted us bi folks to walk the plank.”

Matt huffs into his hair. “We're not _pirates_.”

“To get seven lashes, then. No way can you convince me Catholics aren’t into delivering pain.”

He snorts this time, but he’s thinking hard. There aren’t any right responses to Foggy’s question. He’s not going to believe anything theological. Telling him about his DignityUSA donations feels forced. Talking about his own sins would get an eyeroll.

He releases Foggy from his grasp without moving away from him. Considers his next words carefully. _St. Augustine says to love the sinner, hate the sin_ is on the tip of his tongue. He knows Foggy would believe it of him, but he chokes on it. That's not what he wants to say to Foggy, whose heart is beating so earnestly and hopefully against him.

"It's really fine," Matt says, managing a smile. "I don't agree with everything the Church says." Simple, to the point.

"Just most of it?" Foggy’s voice is skeptical. A little hurt. Matt’s not sure he’s going to be able to convince him. He’s not sure things are going to be okay between them for a while. But he’s going to try.

He settles his hand on Foggy’s and squeezes. "I don't agree about this,” he says quietly. “About you."

It's really true. Even if Matt hadn’t already come to terms with homosexuality, he couldn't hate the sins Foggy commits, any more than he could hate Foggy. Matt hates sins of apathy, of indifference; hurrying past homeless people on the street, using rideshare companies just to save a few bucks. Nothing about Foggy is indifferent. Foggy is brave. Kind. Sincere. Generous. Loving. 

Everything about Foggy is beautiful. Everything about Foggy, Matt would stand by. More than stand by.

Matt inhales. 

He focuses on Foggy, really focuses on him. And, for the first time that evening, listens to his own heartbeat.

_Oh_.

**Author's Note:**

> As a classical music *and* TNG nerd, it was my moral imperative to give this work this title.


End file.
